chapter 11

The servants behaved exactly as Abigail had instructed. Carolyn sat at the large dining table and they filled it with everything from pasta dishes with thick sauces and garlic bread to large cream cakes; from rice and noodles to side dishes of samosa and spicy potato cakes. I knew there was no way Carolyn would eat it all; the minute she emptied one of the serving dishes, it was replaced with another full to the brim. Carolyn just kept refilling her plate and eating and I was concerned that she would actually keep going until she burst. Carolyn continued eating until she had force fed herself to the absolute limit and then complained that she could not move. I noticed she was also struggling to breath; shallow breaths were all she could manage. It was clear she was in pain, so I helped her walk through to the bedroom where she laid on the bed, groaning. I was about to leave, but she stopped me, asking where I was going.

"I assumed you would want to be alone until you felt better," I said.

Carolyn smiled at me. "I really need a belly massage," she said. "I feel horrible!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I rolled up my sleeves and began lightly rubbing Carolyn's stomach with the tips of my fingers. At first, her skin felt tight and solid, but gradually, I began to feel it soften and was able to apply a little more pressure. Not too much; I did not want to hurt her, but I was loving how soft and round her stomach was becoming. Eventually, I heard gentle snoring and realised Carolyn had fallen asleep, so I climbed into bed beside her and dozed off with my hand still on her stomach.

When I awoke in the morning, we were spooning together. My arm was wrapped around Carolyn's waist and I gave her stomach a gentle rub. It was certainly a lot softer than it had been the previous night and I could not resist gently squeezing it. Unfortunately, this woke Carolyn who was unimpressed to find me in bed with her.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, shoving me away. "I told you that I didn't want anything to happen between us!"

"Nothing did happen," I replied. "I just rubbed your belly as you asked me to!"

Carolyn sat up and realised that she was still fully dressed, although her top had been rolled up where I had massaged her stomach. She seemed to grudgingly accept I had kept my word and went through to the bathroom for a shower.

As I was waiting for her, I noticed that all of the dishes from the previous night had been cleared away and the kitchen had been cleaned. I began to wonder how the servants had done all of that without waking us, but my train of thought was derailed as Carolyn walked in wearing just the red bikini she had bought in London. It was definitely snug around her bottom and her belly bulged over the top of the pants, a soft rounded dome sticking out noticeably. Her breasts had also increased in size and they strained against the top half of the bikini. If I were in a cartoon, my chin would have been on the floor and my eyes out on stalks! She noticed me staring and self-consciously rubbed her stomach.

"The doctor was right, I am gaining weight again," she complained. "Do you think I am too fat to wear this?"
I shook my head. I could imagine her bursting out of that bikini if she carried on eating as she had done the previous night. If she did continue like that, would her soft, but firm and shapely body become saggy and flabby? I was torn between my desire to see her over-eat and my desire for her physically. As it was, Carolyn's curves were absolutely perfect.

"You look stunning," I replied honestly.

Carolyn smiled and sat at the kitchen table looking round expectantly. As if on cue, one of the servants entered carrying a silver tray and set it before her. When he lifted the lid, it contained a glass of fruit juice, bowl of cereal and a couple of rounds of toast. Carolyn looked almost disappointed, but began eating, finishing very quickly. Without a word the servant took the tray away again.

A second servant walked in and I was instantly uncomfortable. The first servant was quiet, dressed in a waiter's uniform and I could not even tell you what colour hair he had. He managed to do his duties without us even noticing him. The new servant could not have been more different. He was not wearing the standard white shirt and black trousers, but a pair of ragged denim shorts which showed off his legs, and a tight fitting t-shirt which outlined every muscle of his toned torso. I noticed the way Carolyn smiled at him and I felt both jealous and inadequate at the same time.

"Good morning Carolyn," he said. Another Australian! The accent which sounded so perfect when I heard Abigail speak with it suddenly grated on me, but I knew that this was pure envy. Carolyn had never smiled at me the way she smiled at him!

"I don't know if you had anything planned today, but I have taken the liberty of setting up a sun lounger in the garden. You are on holiday after all!" he smiled. "My name is Frank and I will be your personal assistant for today. Anything you want, just ask; you don't need to do anything but relax! I would suggest that you use these," he handed her a pair of sunglasses, "and I have some sun tan lotion for you. I can imagine that you have very delicate skin."
"I can do that!" I said, angry that this man would have the opportunity to rub his hands over Carolyn's body and feel those soft curves. However, what I intended as a statement of my dominance came out almost as a squeak.

"There is no need," said Carolyn. "He's just doing his job." I could see the excitement in her eyes as she put on the sunglasses and stood up to head out to the garden, but Frank stopped her.

"I also have these for you," he said, handing her a large carton of cigarettes. "When you get down to your last packet, let me know and I will bring you another." I watched Carolyn expertly open the packet and light a cigarette, inhaling deeply. Then, without a word to me, she followed Frank into the garden. I know that I had accepted her smoking habit in London and indulged her demands for more, but something about this felt very wrong. From the window, I watched Carolyn blow smoke rings as she laid on the sun lounger and Frank gently coated her with the sun tan lotion and massaged it into her skin.
As I turned to walk away feeling angry and frustrated, I noticed Abigail sat at the kitchen table smiling at me. I had not even seen her come in. She looked very attractive in a loose fitting, sleeveless cotton dress and with her hair pulled back into a pony tail. She saw the look on my face, and her smile turned to a look of concern. She crossed the kitchen and stood beside me looking out of the window and nodded knowingly.

I started to speak, but Abigail turned to me and grinned. I noticed the way the top of her nose crinkled slightly and the wide smile gave her dimples in her cheeks and suddenly, I could not put my thoughts into words. I looked into her cold, blue eyes and realised I was being ridiculous. Frank was just an employee and making Carolyn comfortable on the island.

Abigail took my arm in hers. "Come with me," she said. "Carolyn will be fine and I know that some of our employers are keen to meet the mysterious London supplier."

We walked down to the beach, arm in arm, talking about absolutely nothing and finding it hilarious. Considering I had only really spoken to Abigail in her professional capacity as a doctor, I found her remarkably easy to talk to, as though we had been close friends forever. However, Abigail's laughter quickly stopped when we saw the goth from the airfield walking towards us. Today she was wearing a purple and black dress which was still inappropriate for the heat on the island.
As she approached, Abigail introduced her as The Duchess. Unlike when I saw her at the airfield, I was now close enough to look at her properly. Even under the thick white foundation, I could tell that she could not have been older than twenty-five.

"Are you really Royalty?" I asked in disbelief. The Duchess looked down her nose at me, but did not answer.

"She likes to think so," laughed Abigail. "So you must not talk to her unless she speaks to you first. Anyway, she believes she is descended from Countess Bathory."

"I am!" snapped The Duchess angrily.

"Yeah... But you also believe you are descended from the witch in Hansel and Gretel. I guess some people will say anything for a bit of attention!" sniggered Abigail. This time I laughed too, unable to help myself, despite the anger I could see on The Duchess' face. She responded by grabbing Abigail's arm and pinching it quite viciously.

"I see you are still very skinny, Doctor" she said. "I will be there on the day you fail!" With that, she walked away, her head in the air.

"What's her problem?" I asked.

"Oh, she's never liked me," replied Abigail dismissively. "But she's right. I am under no illusion that if I were not so good at my job, I would end up in one of the cages!"

"Cages?"

Abig ail looked at me in disbelief. "You really don't know, do you?"